


A Miracle

by CiaranthePage



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multi, Overdosing, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, no one dies I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-09 14:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10414395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaranthePage/pseuds/CiaranthePage
Summary: Pearl didn't want help or pity. She wasn't dead, she reasoned, so it was okay. No one had to know everything. Not even Rose, or later Amethyst, got the whole picture.The real miracle came in her senior year.(sad human high school headcanons with a happy ending)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i know it's been forever since i put out content, and i'm rly sorry : ( school + mental illness killed my drive for a while. so until i get fully back on my feet, have this little spur of the moment thing! i typed (some of) this on my ds bcus i love y'all  
> This is kinda bad, and I may come back to edit it later. Sorry in advance if it doesn't make much sense! and I promise I have better content on the way (it's zelda, but i'll have su stuff after that)

It was honestly a miracle Pearl was still alive.

 

After all, she'd struggled with eating since hitting middle school for reasons no one bothered to investigate. High school brought suppression of her emotions and horrible ways to cope with them in the aftermath. She'd _very_ nearly tipped off the staff to her private lifestyle after coming to school still hungover, wrists wrapped in loose bandages (she wasn't often shit-faced drunk, but when she was, cuts were deeper and her choices were dumber). She never ate at school, always wore long sleeves, froze up whenever the topic of mothers reached her in conversation... the list went on, and Pearl could recite it.

 

It was hard to tell from the outside.

 

To many, Pearl was just weird and studious. She got perfect grades (how depended on who you asked), stayed out of drama, really only chilled at the "rich kids'" table and looked at no one. Her quietness was her personality instead of a side effect of headaches, her constant need to wear long sleeves was a cold or fashion thing instead of hiding a guilty secret, the way she dropped ten pounds the summer before freshman year (five of which her body almost couldn't afford to lose) was on purpose to look good instead of the by-product of self-isolation and a complete disregard for her body. No one ever noticed the way she froze when the conversation turned to parents, as she always sat up straight and looked at her work with a blank stare. Even Rose, who checked Pearl's arms every day and made sure Pearl ate dinner every night, only knew so much about Pearl's home life.

 

This was on purpose. Pearl didn't want help or pity. She wasn't dead, she reasoned, so it was okay. No one had to know everything. Not even Rose, or later Amethyst, got the whole picture.

 

The real miracle came in her senior year.

 

Pearl felt awful. Everything was threatening to crumble around her, most importantly her grades and relationships. It was Friday night, which, given her mood, could only lead to one thing: drowning out her feelings. But the feelings refused to be driven out, as usual, leading to Pearl crying on the bathroom floor. She just wanted comfort, and with none coming, her mind was looking for another way out.

 

She remembered something. Her sister had started a pain medication to help with her new burn scar. Pearl didn't know how much it would take to kill her, or if she even wanted to die, but she made the mistake of looking at the bottle for too long. Everything in her mind started going off, each factor bouncing the idea around faster and faster like a sick pinball game. The lights in her head were going off faster and faster, brighter and brighter, until finally, she snuck the bottle into her room and sat on the bed, cap discarded on the floor.

 

She got two down before her phone rang. For a moment, she just listened, waiting for someone else to answer. No one came, given that she was home alone for the next few days. So while she felt dizzy and even more awful than before, her mouth bitter, she answered.

 

"Yesh?"

 

"Umm... hey, it's Amethyst. You haven't answered Rose or my texts. Everything okay?" came the reply.

 

Pearl clutched her stomach, threw up a bit in her mouth, and said, "I think I need to go to the hospital."

 

Amethyst reacted  _immediately_. She was worried, prodding Pearl with questions as to why as she presumably got ahold of Rose through some other means, based on her hurried assurances. Pearl couldn't answer them, her throat burning and her head spinning. She ended up actually throwing up into the toilet, disgustingly while still having Amethyst on the other end. Her shirt smelled like beer, wine, and her perfume at the same time; the combination made her feel strangely upset as if she'd somehow ruined the whole bottle of her perfume by throwing up on her shirt. She successfully resisted drinking more alcohol by collapsing on the floor in front of the couch in the front room, head between her knees as reality seemed to sway around her. A knock drew her from her sleepy state, and after thanking the heavens that she was alone, opened the door only to fall asleep in Rose's arms.

 

She woke up in a propped-up hospital bed, with Rose's eyes scanning her face for any signs of life and Amethyst's voice faintly reaching her from the other side of the room. "Whaa?" Pearl asked.

 

"You..." Rose sniffled a little. "Amethyst called you, last night, and you... you were drunk, and asked her to take you to the hospital. She came to grab me, as well."

 

"Oh," Pearl sighed, flopping back against the pillows. "'m sorry."

 

"Don't be," Rose said, brushing back Pearl's bangs, which had become messy and unkempt, to feel her forehead. "Did something happen? You've never... they said they found something in your system besides the alcohol, but they wouldn't tell us what."

 

Pearl leaned into her touch, trying to ground her floaty mind with the reminder that Rose was  _here_ and corporeal. "I can't remember," she hummed. "I suppose the medication is new, but." She winced, hurting her own head with too many words. For someone who hated hangovers, she certainly had some of the worst kinds.

 

"Rest," Rose said, moving her hand to Pearl's face. "I think I understand, now."

 

Amethyst came back over, sitting next to Rose. "You doin' okay, Pearl?"

 

"I'll be fine," Pearl said, sitting up enough to give Amethyst a soft peck before flopping back against the bed's back.

 

She couldn't remember much of why she'd started drinking in the first place. It had become something of a habit to do so on any Friday she didn't have plans, so she supposed that was it. With no one home to supervise, she could drink several cups of wine and follow them up with two of the beer bottles Mother kept around for guests. All of the alcohol in their house was weak, and she'd heard it commented on several times, but Pearl was skinny and desperate enough to make it work. She didn't voice the thought, simply closed her eyes and tried to pull back more memories. She remembered the pinball effect, remembered how all of the tastes in her mouth combined, remembered throwing up during the phone call. They weren't pleasant memories.

 

The doctor asked her a few questions, only some of which Pearl had answers for. He promised they wouldn't turn her in for underage drinking, given the circumstances around it. After begging for a solid five minutes, he promised not to tell her mother, either. He was the one who _told_ her it was a miracle, being alive after that.

 

Rose insisted that Pearl stay with them for a night. She ended up squished between her girlfriends on Rose's couch. Everything was still unfocused, still fuzzy, but it was nicer to be fuzzy because she was warm and slightly overwhelmed with affection than fuzzy because she was about to die. They kept her there, under careful supervision, until the next morning. The three ate some pizza Rose had in her apartment, watched a few movies, and managed to get some giggles and laughs out of Pearl with her favorite film and plentiful kisses.

 

When she woke the next morning, Pearl felt coherent again. She could distinctly feel Amethyst pressed against her back, arms around her waist, and she could see Rose's face only a few inches from her own. This, she thought, was a secondary miracle. That such beautiful people stuck with her, cared about her, enough to take her to the hospital and then home for the night. She nestled down into the bed again, not wanting to go home even though she could, now. A few more minutes, just a bit more time to hang onto her miracles. She loved them both, deeply and purely, and she hoped that they returned even a fraction of that love.

 

She had a feeling that would be the only thing keeping her alive.


End file.
